Awakening; A small, slow tumbling of sheets, Stretching of arms, legs, and back, Eyes not quite open.
Curtains billowing in the morning gusts,
The sun drips honey onto the floor,
Bare feet bend and flex,
A Chest expands and lungs fill,
With the frosty air.
Steam escapes from parting lips,
On a pale face,
White as a summer lily.
Around thin shoulders hair falls,
Chemically tinted and stained.
On the floor,
A knocked over vase,
Water seeping into the worn plush rug,
But the glass did not crack,
Like her heart.
Tags: lost love
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A (Not So) Peripheral Perception